


A Bitter Fairy Tale

by Jane_Dorocak



Series: PH hanahaki AU [2]
Category: Purple Hyacinth (Webcomic)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Death, F/M, Hanahaki Disease, You Have Been Warned, heavy-handed symbolism, this ain't subtle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:53:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24650371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jane_Dorocak/pseuds/Jane_Dorocak
Summary: Kieran is used to the sight of flowers drenched in blood, sticky and still warm.Still, those flowers usually aren’t daisies. And the blood is not his own.He supposes there is a certain degree of poetry in it.The infamous assassin Purple Hyacinth killed by flowers.A beast slain by the beauty.A hated monster defeated by love.Oh, the justice of it all, how sweet and ironic it was.
Relationships: Lauren Sinclair/Kieran White
Series: PH hanahaki AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1767712
Comments: 30
Kudos: 91





	1. Chapter 1

It starts inconspicuously. His throat squeezes tighter whenever she's around almost not allowing him to breath; the mere thought of her leaves him uncomfortably breathless. He makes nothing of it, attributing the symptoms to feelings of guilt and one-sided infatuation he seems to have developed for the woman over the time they spent together. When the coughing starts he admits to himself his problems may be of more medical nature, but still nothing that cannot be fixed with herbal tea and some cough drops. 

Only when blood and flowers come crawling out of his mouth he realizes chamomile won't fix this.

_When Kieran doesn’t come to work one morning, Lauren is mildly concerned. So far he has never missed out a day of work - even though for him this job is just a rouse. She couldn't imagine why now of all times he would. Perhaps there was some urgent business with the Phantom Scythe? She hopes not. Or it could be something personal? Either way he didn't mention anything to her. But then again under what obligation is he to tell her about his private affairs? None. They were to speak only about Lune business and based on the new amadment to the old rules - about any bussiness of Phantom Scythe that might interviene with that. Nothing else._

_So she tries to make nothing of his absence and act as if everything's normal. It would only raise unnecessary suspicion if she ran off the moment she doesn’t see him at work and the two of them suspicious as they were already. Still, her eyes wander way too often to the door of the archive and she barely listens to whatever Will or Kym are telling her._

He knows what the flowers mean. Of course, he knows. He has heard about this disease before, although just from the books and stories. It makes him almost laugh, the irony of it. Him, the heartless Purple Hyacinth, falling into the clutches of on illness targeting one-sided lovesick fools and dismissed lovers. But then again, who said monsters are immune to love. The beast from the fairy tale certainly was not. And _he_ almost died for it. 

_When sometime around noon Will suggests she’ll take the rest of the day off, Lauren jumps at the opportunity almost immediately and rushes out. She doesn’t know why she’s so restless about it, but something inside her urges her to find him. Her first instinct tells her to go to his cave. After all, that’s where they normally meet. She hadn’t been to his apartment ever since that night before Harvey’s funeral. It’s too personal of a place; he looks like too much of a human and too little of a monster there. She almost starts running, but she forces herself just to walk quickly._

_No, calm down, she tries to talk herself out of it. Perhaps he's.... sick._

_She almost laughs at the idea - the Purple Hyacinth, the monster of Ardhalis, lying sick in the bed - or at least she wants to laugh at it, but the laughter always gets stuck in her throat. Because she knows sickness would be the best of all the possible reasons why he wouldn't come to work. She doesn't even want to think about the other options._

He knows there's an easier option than death. He knows he could survive if he just disposes of these feelings, shoot them the same way she promises to shoot him, cuts them out with a knife along with all the memories-

Yet, he cannot do that.

He cannot even consider it.

He reasons it’s for her safety. She's in too deep now and he knows she won't stop even if he vanishes. And how could he protect her if he doesn’t know her? How can he make sure she’s safe if he regards her just as another faceless officer, a nosy detective-wannabe that dug too far? Or - if god forbid she got on the Phantom Scythe's radar - even as a target?

No. He'd rather die than to be saved at her expense. The beast might be a monster but he never harms the princess. Ever.

So he decides to keep up with the charade and silently hope the fairy tale was right and the monster could be loved after all.

Not that he believes it.

_When she doesn’t find him in the cave, her stomach crumbles._

_Stop it, she chastises herself. This only means he's at home. You were right. He's sick. You saw him coughing a few days ago. It's nothing more than flu. Or maybe even common cold. Yes, because despite everything, he has a human body. He's allowed to get sick from time to time._

Alas, it’s hard to continue in their dance; to act as if breathing was easy when she’s next to him, taking on that much of his space; to act as if his heart doesn’t stop when she looks at him. Sometimes, at the most random of moments, he would slip, fall of the rhythm, and the flowers would scatter across the dancefloor.

It happens when they are in the cave discussing their next move or when they're departing from their last mission or when they're training; it happens when they're talking in the office oh so quietly so their conspiratory glances could me mistaken for those of two lovers. One moment he's fine, the next she does something - a small gesture - anything really from a sarcastic remark through reaching out her hand to help him stand up after training to a simple smile… and the flowers crawl up into his mouth, forcing their way out, his unspoken love for her demanding to be seen-

But he makes up a silly excuse about the air of the cave or a bug stuck in his throat and hides the flowers in his hand before she could spot them.

If she has ever noticed, she does not let it show.

After all, this is his private business and they have rules about that. They are just partners in crime, dancing a careful dance, at arm's length from each other. Nothing more.

_She’s almost about to turn around and go home, cheeks red with embarrassement at the unexplicable anxiety, but then she spots something on the table. A large file she did not see before. She walks to it and opens it._

_Her eyes widen as she reads the first page._

After a while, when he realizes his doom is approaching faster than the prospects of finding the Leader, he starts gathering all the intel he has on the Phantom Scythe and putting it into a special file. He's througout to the point of compulsive obsession; he goes through everything he knows about the organization and jots it down - every name and every face, every date, meeting or clue, every minuscule detail he could recall every little thing that seems irrelevant for now, but can prove useful later. He cannot sleep for fear of suffocating, so he spends entire nights writing, organizing his knowledge into one huge file in hopes that even if he dies she’ll find it and continue in their mission.

It’s not the library the monster offered to the princess, but it would hopefully be enough.

_She goes through the folder several times. There are a lot of details about various PS members, most of them small fish, but from time to time there’s also a big one. Names, dates, all written down on a typewriter._

_In the end, there’s a note attached - a short one simple in its message, the only part of the file that is written by hand._

_Officer, in case of my untimely death, I hope this file will provide you with enough information to help you find and capture the leader._

_Best of luck officer._

_sighed_

_Your dearest Subordinate_

_Nothing more._

He attempts to write a goodbye letter to her too; something more personal than _in case of my death, please utilize the information from this file to find the Leader_. He spends hours deciding what to write struggling with the right words and phrases. He pours all his feelings into the letter, spills every truth he had been holding in along with the daisies. His life before the Phantom Scythe, his abduction, the years of hellish training, the reasons for his vengeance, the hatred he had for those who turned him into a monster, the love he found to hold for her and what relief the knowledge he could still feel this way brought to him. When he's finished the letter contains ten pages, all covered from both sides by his small precise handwriting.

He sets them on fire the next morning. 

He has no right to burden her with his darkness.

She has no right to carry on his secrets while keeping hers to herself.

_Lauren frowns at the ambiguous note and runs through the file again, confused and looking for clues when something slips out of the pages onto the ground._

_She leans down. It’s a simple pressed flower - a daisy._

_A terrible premonition runs over her._

During one stake-out she notes she likes daisies. The information slips from her lips just like that - a little tidbit to fill the uncomfortable silence.

He wants to laugh at the irony. So that’s why.

When she asks what his favourite flower is, he dodges reminding her of their rules. She almost blushes at that, but she keeps her distance for the rest of the night and doesn’t ask more. He’s glad she doesn't. He wouldn’t be able to contain himself if she did.

_She jolts up and dashes from the cave. She has to get to his apartment._

_She has to get there on time. She doesn’t know why or what ‘in time’ means, but she knows she cannot be late._

As time passes, it becomes more and more painful for him to go through the day. Every morning in the office is misery, every night is a walking nightmare. Still, he pushes through, insisting on dancing till the last breath, till the last petal falls down.

_She breaks into a run. It starts raining, but that doesn't stop her, she rushes through the streets, desperate, frantic; panic filling her heart, voices in her head accusing her of a crime she wasn't aware of having committed-_

There are moments when he wants to hate her for it. Not only for filling his lungs with flowers but for the fact she awoke the romantic in him again. For forcing that little boy in him out of his slumber and to see all that he - the Purple Hyacinth - had done. For making him for the slightest of moments, feel like a real human boy, lost in her eyes, happy, goofing around, with no other worry than how to make her smile again and again... 

_His front doors are closed but not locked. She burst in, her breath haggard, her heartbeat erratic._

He cannot hate her. It is not her fault she makes him feel this way. It’s just the way she is - determined and strong and too much like a Sun - scorching and bright and so beautiful he could barely look at her. And it’s not her fault she doesn't love him. After all, who could ever love a monster?

_She doesn't find him in the kitchen - he’s not in the living room either._

He cannot hate the flowers either, as bizarre as that might sound.

_No one in the bedroom._

They’re a proof he still has a heart - albeit a black and broken one, but a heart capable of emotions other than hatred and anger.

_She’s about to knock open the locked door when she hears a soft moan from the bathroom._

_He’s lying on the floor there._

_His hair is messy a few strands sticking to his face damp with sweat and tears, as white as a sheet. His mouth is red with blood. His clothes are covered in it too. Blood and daisies._

_There’s a pool of blood around him, once white flowers swimming in that mess._

_White and red, red and white._

A heart full of love and lungs full of flowers.

_She falls on her knees beside him, lifting her head up into her hands._

_“Kieran? Kieran wake up!” she shouts._

_He opens one eye._

_“Oh hello, officer,” he whispers a smile creeps upon his lips._

She's here. The princess came. Only this is not her. She's not real.

_“Kieran?” Lauren feels something falling down her cheek. She’s crying, she realizes to her own shock._

_“Hey, heey,” he whispers and raises his hand to caress her cheek._

_“Don’t cry. You’re my illusion and you are not allowed to cry.”_

He knows she must be a dream. There's no reason for the princess to come looking for a monster that gave her nothing but blood-soaked flowers. Still, it's nice of the devil to take on her form to ease his descent to hell.

_“No, Kieran, I’m here!” she pushes his hand away and grabs him, trying to get him into an upright position._

_“I’m here! Don’t you dare to die on me, you stupid subordinate!”_

_He shakes his head, smiling._

_“Too late, mon amour. The flowers are wilted.”_

The time is up and the curse not lifted. And the princess still does not love the monster, no matter how much this illusion of her might cry _._

_He chuckles - or tries too, but the only thing that comes out of his mouth is red bubbles._

_“No stop!” Lauren tries to make him sit up, but she slips on the blood. They both fall down, she right on top of his chest that stops moving._

_She raises up looks into his face-_

_“Kieran!”_

_But he doesn’t hear her anymore._

The monster has been slain. The end.

_By the time paramedics come around, they can conclude only death._

_They carry Kieran’s body out of the building in a blue bag. They ask Lauren some questions._

_She answers in a mechanical tone._

_No, she’s just a coworker. He didn’t come to work so she went to check on him. No, she did not know he had hanahaki until now. Yes, he still lived when she found him._

_And no she doesn’t need to go to the hospital - not right now. Thank you. You’re welcome. Goodbye._

_She watches them leave, covered in blood from head to toe._

_Then she goes in._

_She sits down on his bed._

_When she was here the last time, she mused over the irony of the deadliest of assassin fussing over her wounds like a nanny. Now, she contemplates the fact, the monster that terrorized the city is dead and she’s the only one to know._

_Dead - killed by love._

_Love for whom she wonders._

_Something gets stuck in her throat._

_She coughs._

_A single purple flower falls into her hand._

_A hyacinth, drenched in her blood._

And so maybe, the fairy tale was right and the princess loved the monster. But she was blind, and so love came too late for both of them.


	2. Alternative ending

She finds him on the bathroom floor all bloodied and pale, death and sickness mirroring in his eyes. 

"Fuck, Kieran!" 

She drops on her knees next to him lifting his head in panic.

 _He smiles at the notion of her voice. What a sweet dream to have in his last moments..._

She bites her lip looking around. He's still alive. But for how long? She needs to get help. Should she call the neighbours for help? Does he have a phone? 

Can she stop the bleeding? How? Where is even this blood coming from? 

Gods, it's _everywhere_ , there's so much of it, too much, covering everything even the flowers scattered around. 

_Daisies_ , one though cuts through the rest like a shard of glass stabbing straight into her heart. 

_Don't tell me..._

"Kieran what are these flowers doing here?" she asks her voice shaking.

He looks up at her shakes his head. 

"You're the detective, darling. Try to figure it out on your own..." he says and then chuckles.

 _Chuckles,_ like this is the appropriate reaction of a dying man, but she cannot even scold him for it because the chuckle turns into a fit of cough, and soon more flowers flood the floor the white petals drenched in crimson.

So that's what it is. Lauren holds her breath. 

How could she not have noticed before? All those times he was complaining about sore throat, all those missions where he was just slightly out of breath. 

She was blind. Blind and stupid, but now she finally opens her eyes only to see him dying choking on love he hasn't dared to give, another life she fails to save another life she sends to its doom, the life of her partner, her accomplice, her... 

Love. 

Now it is her turn to laugh, laugh through the tears dropping on his face like the gentlest most cruel form of rain.

"You can't die here, Kieran!"

She chokes out half mad with the sudden clarity of the situation. 

"You can't die! I forbid it! I love you and I forbid you die on me like this, you hear me?!"

He looks at her, face turned to stone in shock before it melts into a smile, sad but honest one and his next words freeze her as much as the sight of the white and red petals drying on his lips. 

"Nice try, my beautiful vision. How kind of you to ease my descend to hell." 

Lauren's hands curled into fists. 

He didn't believe her. He though she was just a hallucination a vision of his dying mind...

He opens his mouth to speak again, no doubt some smart ass remark, but she cuts him off her lips locking on his, taking it all in - the blood, the pain, the shortness of his breath... 

She is not letting him slip away, not now. 

He breaks the kiss abruptly not from shock but for the need to cough and he heaves over spitting out yet more flowers, but also stems and leaves and roots all coated in crimson red and burning like fire... 

Then suddenly he stops, and looks up, the veil of death lifting from his eyes lile opera curtain leaving her exposed to his shocked gaze. 

"Lauren... You're here?" he asks in utter disbelief and instead of replying she throws herself around his neck, grabbing onto him like it was her life that was at stake and it was only him that could save her not the other way around. 

"Idiot," she breathes out and her clothes and face get soaked in his blood, everything around them a wet mess. Then she pulls back and punches him in the chest, once twice three times, once again pushing the air from his lungs. 

"You. Bloody. Idiot!" she adds with each punch. 

"You almost died right now!" 

He blinks slowly but then his lips lift up into a smile and laughter, honest painless laughter fills the air. He reaches for her hand ready for another punch and brings it to his face, his lips now cleaned off by the kiss brushing against the knuckles. 

"You... saved me," he says his voice filled with genuine wonder like a child that just saw Santa land on the roof of the neighbours house. 

"You're here and you saved me."

"I was back in the cave," she says her voice strangely flat in spite of the storm rain in her mind. 

"I found the file you made. I got worried."

"You did? Oh, darling, what about that made you worried?"

"Everything! Why would you even put something like that together if you were fine? Something must have been wrong but you left no explanation and I-!"

She's crying again, the tears cleaning up a path across the blood on her face, and he cannot help but raised his hand to wipe them away. 

The first time she cries for him. Not because of him or his actions but for him as someone she'll miss... as someone. Not a thing, not a monster, a human.

"I made quite a mess, didn't I?" he asks softly even though he wants to shout with happiness only if he had the strength to do so.

"Stop joking," she says but smiles all the same and then stands up reaching out one hand to him.

 _She looks great even when she's covered in his blood_ he realizes cringing at the indecency of the thought. 

"We should get cleaned up. And then... then we should talk." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wrote this in a spur of moment, might regret later.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!  
> I apologize if this made you sad.  
> (Also I apologize if this didn't make you sad, bsc then it clearly missed the mark.)  
> I don't apologize if this made you laugh - in that case you're very welcome you sadist bastard.
> 
> Aaanyways.  
> Thank you for reading this, please leave comments and kudos if you feel inclined to do so and have a nice day.


End file.
